


Open Your Eyes (I'll Be Waiting)

by roebling



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fire Era, First Time, Jimin grows up, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Silly Boys, Unrequited Crush, hoseok is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/pseuds/roebling
Summary: Hoseok thinks it's equal measures adorable and horrifying that Park Jimin has a crush on him. Jimin is just a kid, and his crush invites awkwardness that Hoseok doesn't need while he's struggling to debut. It's not pretty, but he clears the air between them and things are fine -- until the day he looks up and realizes that Jimin isn't a kid any more.





	Open Your Eyes (I'll Be Waiting)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rather silly little story that didn't quite turn out the way I intended. I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. It's definitely canon inspired, but not really canon compliant. Consider it a 'loose interpretation' of the Fire era :) Largely inspired by [this youtube](https://youtu.be/Wq-U1I5r6ZU). This is my first time writing Hoseok and I hope I've done him justice. I'm unintentionally posting on his birthday, so Happy Birthday Hoseok!! :) 
> 
> Thank you to Di and Em for the read through on this one :)))

Yoongi is the one who notices it first, back when BTS is nothing more than a distant blur on the horizon. 

Late night and they're in the studio working. Well, Yoongi is working, and Hoseok is dozing in the spare chair. He could walk back to the dorm on his own, but it's nicer to wait for Yoongi to be done and go together. 

"Jimin stayed late again tonight, huh?" 

Hoseok startles out of some anxious half-dream (very strange: dance practice room floor so slippery they go flying across it like skaters in an ice rink; Jungkook wants to work figure eights in to the choreography, Namjoon and Seokjin are wearing gloves and scarves over their hip hop regalia) and stares blankly at him for a few minutes. 

"Jimin," Yoongi says again. "He stayed late with you." 

"Uh," Hoseok says. "Yeah. He did. He went back with Namjoon a little while ago." 

Yoongi tsks in disapproval. 

Hoseok shakes his head. "He works too hard," he says. "I told him to go home and get some sleep but he never listens to me."

"He wants to impress you," Yoongi mutters, not looking away from the screen. 

Hoseok sighs. "He's so worried he's going to get cut -- but he's really gotten a lot better, don't you think? I think he was just nervous at first. I know he wants to prove he's good enough but he's going to make himself sick if he doesn't take care."

"That's not why," Yoongi says.

"Huh?" Hoseok frowns. 

"I mean, yeah. He does want to prove he's good enough or whatever," Yoongi says, "but that's not why he stays late." 

"Why then?" Hoseok asks. 

"Kid's got a crush on you." 

Hoseok blinks. "What?" 

"He likes you," Yoongi says. "Do you need me to spell it out? Hoseok and Jimin, sitting in a tree and whatever else?" 

Hoseok laughs. "What are you talking about? He doesn't like me. That's crazy." 

Yoongi shakes his head. "Afraid not," he says. "He turns bright red the second you enter the room, Hoseok. He's got it bad." 

Hoseok leans back in the chair. Okay, so he knows Jimin is a little shy and awkward -- one of the reasons he’s not really idol material, in the company's opinion. And sure, any time Hoseok stays late in the practice room Jimin will ask to stay and practice with him, but that doesn't mean anything. He's a hard worker. It's his most admirable quality. And okay, so maybe when Hoseok goes home to visit his family Jimin texts him constantly -- three or four times as much as any of the other guys. And maybe Jimin will make it a point to hug Hoseok, and to sit next to him in the van, and to make sure Hoseok always gets the best portions when they go out, and to compliment him on …

"Oh my god," Hoseok says. 

"Yeah," Yoongi says tiredly. "It's really obvious." 

"Oh my god," Hoseok says again. Jimin? Has a crush? On him? Jimin is sweet and funny and nice, but he's just a kid. Why does he have a crush on Hoseok anyway? Why not Seokjin? He's the handsome one. Hoseok's not ... they can't ... "What am I going to do, hyung?" 

Yoongi spins around in his desk chair to glower at Hoseok. "Don't do anything," he says. "It's cute. He's a nice kid." 

Wow. What kind of a monster does Yoongi think he is? "I'm not going to break his heart or anything," Hoseok mutters. He leans back further in the chair and puts a hand on his forehead. "He's a _very_ nice kid but we can't. It's not. He's a baby, Yoongi." 

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. "He's a year younger than you." 

Hoseok huffs. "A year and a half," he says, waving a hand. He leans back a little further -- and almost overbalances in the chair, only just catching himself in time to prevent a precipitous fall backwards into the shelves that holds Yoongi's precious equipment. 

"Hey, careful," Yoongi, glaring at him. "Anyway, don't do anything stupid. He's probably not going to say anything anyway. He'll get over it once he gets to know you better." 

Hoseok nods, relieved. "You're right -- hey!" 

Yoongi cracks up, and dodges to miss the ill-aimed punch that Hoseok throws at his arm. 

The thing is though, Jimin doesn't get over it. Hoseok pays more attention and notices the little things Jimin does: the way he will ask Hoseok for help learning choreography he’s already mastered. The way he'll text Hoseok when he's at school -- just silly nothing messages asking how his day is or what he's doing or some observation about how terrible the school lunch is. The way he'll go out of his way to pick up Hoseok's favorite iced coffee if he's coming into the company building late. 

It's not bad. Jimin really is a sweetheart, and Hoseok doesn't mind spending time with him. He enjoys it! It's just that now that Yoongi has pointed it out, he can't help but notice the way Jimin is a little too demonstrative with his affection, a little bit too shy and bumbling where Hoseok is concerned -- and although wishes he weren't, Hoseok is burdened. 

Jimin is nice and good at dancing and fun to be around -- but Hoseok doesn't like him. Jimin is like his little brother. He's just a _kid_. 

The burden only grows after Jimin is officially chosen to debut with Bangtan Sonyeondan. They're in this for the long haul now. They're going to be groupmates and if Hoseok doesn't do something soon things between them are going to get weird. He doesn't want that. Better just to clear the air. 

But he can't seem to find the right time to do it, so he keeps putting it off. He puts it off and puts it off and the uneasiness he feels grows until finally one night they're in the practice room together very late. It's well past midnight and Jimin is lying on his back on the floor talking about something that happened at school -- some student in his dance class did a routine to that Dynamic Duo song that Hoseok likes so much.

"He's okay," Jimin says. "I mean, he's not bad. But you would have done better, hyung." 

Hoseok closes his eyes. Jimin is so good at that kind of tender encouragement. "Thanks, Jimin-ah," he says. 

Jimin looks over at him, and his eyes are bright. He smiles that endearing smile, all round cheeks and white teeth. 

"It's just the truth," Jimin says. He sits up and pushes his hair out of his face. He sniffs -- they've all been fighting colds. Jimin’s eyes go soft, kind of, and his voice is different when he next speaks. "You're amazing, hyung. I don't know what I would have done without your help. You're --" 

Panic rises suddenly in Hoseok's throat. Don't do this, Jimin, he silently pleads. "You would have been fine," he says quickly. "It just took you a little while to find your feet. That's all." 

Jimin leans back on his hands. He looks so young like this, Hoseok thinks. Younger than Jungkook even. A kid. 

"You helped me so much," Jimin says, stubbornly. "You and Yoongi hyung and Seokjin hyung and Namjoon hyung helped me so much. I wouldn't have made it without you." He frowns, lips pulled into a long, thin line. He is quiet for a moment and then all in a rush he starts to speak."Hyung, I really ..." 

"Jimin-ah," Hoseok says, interrupting, willfully misunderstanding. "You made it because of your hard work. I'm so proud of you. You're like a real little brother to me." 

Jimin's frown grows deeper, the corners of his mouth turning down. "Real ... little brother?" 

Hoseok nods. He breathes in and out deeply. His stomach is uneasy and he doesn't meet Jimin's gaze. He gets up instead and runs through part of the dance they'd been practicing. He misses a step about halfway through. When he finishes, Jimin is still watching him with that small, dissatisfied frown on his face. He doesn't mention Hoseok's mistake. 

"You think of me like your little brother?" he asks. 

Hoseok closes his eyes. It's so late. They should have gone home hours ago. Back at the dorm, there's no space or time for these kinds of confessions. There are too many people, too much noise. Everyone has to speak too loudly to make themselves heard. 

"Of course," Hoseok says. "I always wanted a little brother, and now I've got three." Fake smile. He steps forward and ruffles Jimin's hair. 

Jimin shies away from his touch and glares up at him for a moment, ugly anger and hurt on his face. But then his expressions softens into something resigned and and closed off. "Oh," he says. "Right. I thought maybe ..." He sighs. "Never mind. Thank you, hyung. Really. For all of your help." 

He gets to his feet slowly and gets his sweatshirt and bag from where they're sitting in the corner of the room. "I'm pretty tired. I'm going to go home now." 

He won't meet Hoseok's eyes. He won't look up.

Hoseok feels terrible. He hadn't meant to make Jimin feel bad. He just ... 

"You go on ahead," Hoseok says quietly. "I'm going to clean up. I'll see you back at the dorm." 

Jimin looks up at him and bites his lip. He nods and then without saying anything else opens the door into the hall and goes. 

Hoseok closes his eyes and rubs his temples. This wasn't what he'd pictured at all. He’d thought he could make a joke, tease Jimin a little, clear the air. Maybe he rushed it. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe Jimin hadn't been about to confess. Maybe he's the one jumping to conclusions. 

No. He knows what Jimin had been about to say. 

This is for the best. This is the way it has to be. Jimin will understand that, one day. He'll grow up, and he'll realize that this was just a childish crush. Nothing more. 

It will all be okay. 

And for a long, long time, it is okay. 

Jimin is still his sweet, funny dongsaeng, but there are no more near-confessions. If Jimin is still maybe a bit more demonstratively affectionate towards Hoseok than towards the others, it's not really enough for anyone to comment on. Yoongi will joke, when it’s just the two of them, about Hoseok's puppy lover, but even that joke gets old and then is forgotten. In the mad rush of debut and everything that comes after, Hoseok doesn't have time to worry about something as commonplace and simple as some misplaced schoolboy affection. 

They work so hard for so long that it seems almost unreal when they are finally rewarded with some moderate success. I Need U is a minor hit, and they finally get that long sought after win on a music show. It seems like life should slow down after that, but instead things just heat up. There are more plans and more promotions and more media and so much more to worry about that Hoseok doesn’t even expect it at all when, one day in the drab and bleary conference room in the Big Hit building he looks up at Jimin sitting across the table and thinks to himself, ' _Shit._ ' 

He blinks.

Jimin is sitting across the table, slouching, shoulders hunched forward and hair falling in his face. He looked bored and exhausted, which is exactly how Hoseok feels, but somehow Jimin looks ... different. 

Not really different. He's still Jimin, but sometime in the last few years he outgrew those pudgy baby cheeks of his. His face is leaner, more angular. His jaw is stronger and his features seem to fit together better than they used to. 

It's not exactly surprising. Jimin grew up. They've all grown up. 

It's just ... when Hoseok looks up and sees him sitting across the table he looks so different that he barely seems like the same kid that Hoseok had to go fetch in Seoul Station all those years ago. He looks older and sharper, glossy with the celebrity sheen they've all acquired even when they're not at work. That's not the worrying part, though. 

What Hoseok thinks when he looks up and sees Jimin sitting there -- insolent slouch and bored, slightly haughty expression -- is that Jimin looks _hot_. 

It doesn't even make sense. Hoseok is exhausted and not thinking straight. This is Jimin. His friend and bandmate! His dancing buddy! His little brother! 

He's not ... Hoseok doesn't think ... 

Oh shit.

*****

Another broadcast station. Another waiting room. They are between comebacks, and out of practice. This is just a one day special broadcast affair. Hoseok is bored. Seokjin and Jungkook are asleep. Taehyung has his headphones in. Namjoon is playing some game on his phone. Yoongi is getting his makeup done, and Jimin is waiting his turn. 

They’re not ignoring each other, exactly, but the mood is low. Hoseok always notices things like that, and on another day he might go over and joke around with Jungkook or go ask Namjoon what he’s doing, but everyone seems content to withdraw today, curled into their own little pockets of solitude. There are no simmering bad feelings, no fights. They’re all just tired — physically and of each other. They need some time apart that they won’t get. 

Nervous energy. Hoseok stands up. Sits down. Stands up again. Nobody is paying any attention to him. Hoseok hasn’t filmed anything for the YouTube channel in a while and the temptation to go poke Jungkook’s soft baby cheek until he wakes up is strong. Kid has grown up, but he’s still their maknae, and asleep he looks younger than he has in a while. His phone is on his chest and there are hair clips in his hair. He makes a tired noise. His lips part. No. Hoseok won’t wake him up. 

The makeup artist dabs at Yoongi’s cheekbones. The silver hair washes him out, and her ministrations bring some color back into his cheeks. One eye flutters open and then shuts again. He looks exhausted. Hoseok had stayed late in the practice room last night. Yoongi had still been there, at work in his studio, when he’d left at midnight. 

Jimin, curled up in the next chair, makes an unhappy noise. He’s been sleeping badly, Hoseok knows, and he looks tired too. They all do. 

The makeup artist pats some translucent powder on Yoongi’s nose. He wrinkles it. The effect is indiscernible. She regards him from another angle. Hoseok taps his foot. Jimin makes a sleepy quiet noise. 

“It’s almost your turn, Jimin-ah,” the makeup artist says, distracted. “Why don’t you go shave now?” 

It’s such an absurd statement that Hoseok almost laughs but --

Jimin, puffy-eyed, sits up and yawns. There is the hint of a shadow on his chin, on his upper lip. Not dark -- just a faint shadow. 

Hoseok sees it again. The man Jimin has become, rather than the child he was. It’s so absurd he almost laughs. Almost. 

Jimin slides out of the chair, boneless and tired. He roots around in his bag for a while and then removes a little pouch. He goes over to the mirror and takes out and electric razor. 

Hoseok gets up, goes to stand beside him. He pokes Jimin’s cheek with his index finger. 

Jimin looks up at him. He’s got circle lenses in, and they make his eyes look unreal and strange. Hoseok drags his finger down Jimin’s cheek, along his jaw, boops him on the chin. 

“Ehh,” he says. “This is just peach fuzz.” 

Jimin narrows his eyes, annoyed, and starts to shave. Buzz buzz. The razor slides over his smooth skin and that faint blue shadow disappears. Hoseok leans forward further so his chin is resting on Jimin’s shoulder. It’s an awkward angle. Jimin finishes shaving. His five o’clock shadow is gone. The proper order of the world has been restored. 

“Park Jimin,” Hoseok says. He doesn’t like that Jimin is ignoring him. “When did you grow up? You’re just a baby.” 

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Ha ha ha,” he says, deadpan. “You’re so funny, hyung.” 

Hoseok pinches Jimin’s cheek hard. “Nope,” he says. “Still my baby-faced dongsaeng.”

If he says it often enough, maybe he can convince himself. 

Jimin, face pulled into a hilarious expression, gives him a truly loathing look. “Shut up, hyung,” he says. 

Hoseok lets go of his cheek. There’s a red mark where his finger dug in. Whoops. “I was just kidding around, Jimin-ah. You know hyung isn’t --” 

“Hoseok-ah,” the makeup artist says, “leave him alone. Jimin, get over here so I can get started. You always take the longest…” 

Jimin gives Hoseok one more dirty look and then goes back over to the well-lit vanity. He puts his razor back in his bag and drops heavily into the seat Yoongi just vacated. He crosses his arms and closes his eyes while the makeup artist gets out the proper shades and fusses with her brushes. Jimin’s face is still and relaxed, and the good lighting brings out all his angles, and he looks, briefly, once again, nothing at all like the eager cheerful boy Hoseok knows so well. 

He looks … 

Hoseok had been hoping that day in the meeting room at the Big Hit building had been an aberration, but here it is again, staring him right in the face. 

Jimin looks mature. Hansome. _Attractive_. 

But then Jimin opens his eyes and catches Hoseok’s gaze in the mirror and sticks out his tongue. Hoseok laughs. There’s the Jimin he knows. The makeup artist scolds him, soft pat on the cheek, and he pouts. That weird illusion is dispelled. Jimin, sweet and young, is mollified by the makeup artist. Everything is the way it ought to be. 

*****

The new dorm isn’t large, but in comparison to their old place, it feels like a palace. Separate rooms! Two bathrooms! The days of living barracks-style, four bunk beds to one room, are over! 

It is April and the windows are open and even Seoul smells sweet and fresh. Hoseok breathes in deep. 

Jimin looks up and smiles. "What's up, hyung?" 

They're roommates now. Or they will be. Jimin is a sweet kid, and they have always gotten along well, but the thought makes Hoseok feel a little nervous.

"It's a beautiful day, Jimin-ah," Hoseok says, smiling. "Have you thought about what color you want to paint? Manager hyung wants to know what color we decide by noon."

Today they go back to the dorm to pack up their things, and tomorrow they'll move in. In the interim, someone -- Hoseok isn't clear who -- is going to clean and paint this new place. 

"Oh," Jimin says. "I really don't care. You decide." 

Jimin is like that sometimes. Too accommodating. Like he's still grateful just to be here. Like he doesn't dare ask for more. 

"Eh," Hoseok says. "Don't be like that. Come here and we'll pick something out together." 

Jimin sits down next to him on the floor. Too close. Hoseok scoots away, just an inch. 

"You're sure you like that?" Hoseok asks, peering at the paint swatches Manager hyung gave them to choose from. Jimin is pointing at a pleasant pink-beige color. It's calm and neutral. He suggested it after several minutes of back and forth. 

Jimin nods. "Sure," he says. "It's fine." 

"You're sure?" Hoseok asks, frowning. 

Jimin rolls his eyes. "Yes, hyung. I'm sure. It's fine." He smiles and puts a hand on Hoseok's arm, softly. "Let's go see what Namjoon hyung and Taehyung picked out." 

They stop for lunch on the way back to the old dorm, and then it's time to pack. Hoseok is a tidy person, which makes his own packing easier, but makes the day more stressful than it would otherwise be. There’s mess everywhere. Seven guys and a manager in one small apartment means that nothing is where it should be. Jungkook can't find his favorite hoodie and Namjoon doesn't have a big enough box for his plushies. Jimin finds and then loses and then finds again the box with all his jewelry. Yoongi seems out of sorts. Hoseok helps him pack for a while, joking and teasing, cajoling him out of his bad mood by inches. He can’t fix every problem, but he can make things run a little better, smooth down just a few rough edges. 

They go to sleep late that night and wake up early. The boxes are all gone, magicked away to the new dorm. Hoseok blinks and yawns.

"Good morning, hyung," Jimin says, holding out a cup of coffee as he takes a seat next to Hoseok on the bed. 

Hoseok takes it. "Where'd you get this from?" 

Jimin shrugs. "Couldn't sleep," he says. The mauve circles under his eyes are testament to that. It's amazing how much makeup does to hide the exhaustion. Barefaced, it's too obvious. "Figured I'd go make myself useful and pick up breakfast for everyone. I got some muffins and stuff too." He nods in the direction of the kitchen. "If they aren't gone already." 

"Thanks, Jimin-ah," Hoseok says, smiling. He's such a good kid. "You didn't have to do that." 

Jimin tilts his head and smiles, a little crooked. "I know," he says. "I just wanted to." 

It's a marathon of a day. No time to think. No time to stop. They pile into the van and head over to the new place. All the windows are open but it still smells like paint and bleach. The boxes have been deposited in the correct rooms. New furniture is being assembled. The room that Jimin and Hoseok are to share is not big. They have two little beds, one right beside each other. It's cozy, certainly, but Hoseok thinks they'll do okay. Jimin is more messy than he is, but he's considerate, and with some gentle reminding Hoseok is sure he'll keep his things neat. 

When the furniture is finally assembled it's time to unpack. Clothes to hang, beds to make. They're not going to get everything done today, of course, but their schedules resume tomorrow. They're prepping for a new album. There are songs to record, and MVs to film. Hoseok wants to get as much done today as he can, because he's not sure the next time he'll have the chance. Unpacked boxes will bother him until he can attend to them. 

They order pizza. Hoseok's not really that hungry but he eats it anyway. Manager hyung is still unpacking the kitchen, so they eat on paper plates. Jungkook is eager to show off his room to everyone -- he gets his own, lucky kid. Hoseok goes and says appropriately admiring things. It's nice to see Jungkook so happy. 

In his own room (not his own, of course, but it feels so nice to have some space that's even partially private) Jimin is sitting on his bed, sorting through a pile of loose socks. 

"Where'd you get all of those?" Hoseok asks, amused. 

Jimin shakes his head. "I don't know," he says, confused. "I think they were breeding in my dresser." 

"I'll help you," Hoseok says, and they pair socks for a little while, not talking but comfortable in their companionable silence. He’s always liked that about Jimin -- he’s one of the few people with whom Hoseok feels comfortable just being quiet. Finally, they match all the pairs, except for three spare socks -- one pink, one white, one blue. 

Jimin stares at them in consternation. "I'm throwing them out," he says, and he tosses them all in the garbage can. 

Hoseok flops back on the bed. He's tired. 

"Gonna go take a shower," Jimin says. 

"Good luck finding a towel," Hoseok says. 

Jimin snorts. "I think I saw Manager hyung putting some away." 

Hoseok closes his eyes. The door shuts as Jimin leaves to go find his towel. 

Hoseok is alone. It feels so nice. 

He can’t remember the last time he was alone in his room with nothing at all to do. Ages ago. Before he left home? Maybe. In the dorm there had always been so many people. Seven, eight, as many as ten trainees packed together like sardines. It hadn’t gotten noticeably better after they debuted; they’d just gotten busier. 

This is luxury.

He rolls around on the bed for a moment. Clean, soft blankets. He can hear the shower running, and hear someone shriek in another room -- Seokjin hyung, maybe, arguing with Jungkook about something. The temptation is there: go out and see what's going on. Insert himself into the thick of it. Make sure that there are no hurt feelings and that nobody gets carried away. But the bedroom door is shut, and for some reason that makes all the difference. He can ignore them and just _be_ for a little while.

He closes his eyes. His back is a little sore from bending over boxes all day but he doesn't feel bad, really.

He actually feels pretty good.

He opens his eyes. Jimin takes long showers. If he's fast, maybe he has enough time to get himself off.

He swallows. It's risky. It's not like they don't know what goes on in those long showers that they all take sometimes. But it's not often at all that Hoseok has enough time to get out his laptop and pull up something he really likes, and wait for the pleasant rush of arousal to travel up his spine before he even touches himself.

No. He can't. Jimin seemed tired and he probably won't take long. Hoseok can't risk it. It's one thing to beat off in the shower, but it's an entirely different thing to get caught jerking off in his bed watching ...

Well, that's the problem, isn't it?

Hoseok knows what gets him off, and it's not the kind of things the others prefer. He knows that Yoongi had some skin mags tucked under the bed in their old dorm: tits and ass. Typical stuff.

That's not what Hoseok has ever wanted. He gets off thinking about rippling, muscled stomachs. Thick arms. Muscled thighs covered with dark hair. Guys. Not just guys. Men.

(For a long time he didn't think he was gay because he never got turned on looking at the slim pretty boys that he thought he ought to like. That was never what did it for him. He looked at football players: the way you could see each of the bunched and massive muscles in their thighs, the way you their shirts got soaked with sweat, the way their bodies were harsh, roughly carved things.)

He closes his eyes. He's done it now. Now he's going to have to take his own cold shower. He rolls onto his stomach and wills himself to calm down. It's something he's gotten good at. It happens to all of them sometimes. You get worked up on stage and next thing you know you're half-hard in a pair of jeans so tight that _everyone_ can see _everything_. They all had to learn how to calm themselves down, how to will that buzz away until it could be dealt with in a less inconvenient time and place.

He breathes in and out. Steady there, Hoseok. There will be time later.

The bedroom door opens.

Jimin comes in.

A towel is wrapped low around his waist.

He's always had a nice body. He took the hit for the team, back in the Bulletproof days. Chocolate abs, etc. There were articles written: Hoseok knows that. He teased Jimin about them.

But.

Uh.

Sometime in the last year or so Jimin has changed. He doesn't have the intense definition he had when they debuted but his body is broader: shoulders wider, chest deeper. He's not a big guy and he never will be, but there is thick dark hair beneath his armpits, a line of dark hair running down his flat stomach, very substantial breadth to his shoulders. He doesn't look like a kid any more. He looks ...

Hoseok closes his eyes again. He’d been nervous about this, but it’s so much worse than he imagined. And better.

"The water pressure is really bad," Jimin says peevishly. "Do you think manager hyung can get them to fix it?"

"I don't know," Hoseok says into the pillow.

"I'm going to ask him," Jimin says. "The property management company should take care of these things."

Hoseok looks up. Jimi's back is turned: long smooth curve of his spine. Muscular back. He reaches for a pair of boxer briefs from his suitcase and drops the towel.

Oh _shit._ Hoseok is in trouble.

*****

Soundstage parking lot. The sky is overcast and the day is cold. Winter isn't gone yet. They're burning up today, but Hoseok is freezing. Long padded jacket over his jaunty Hawaiian shirt. It's awesome because it's awesome. He hopes that feeling will never go away. They're _filming an MV_. All these people scurrying around -- PDs and assistants and lighting crew and costume and makeup and managers, dozens and dozens and dozens of them -- are here for _them_ , to help them make this a success, to help them do what they could never manage on their own. 

Still. Maybe just a little bit of the gloss has worn off. Sure, this is by far the biggest thing they've ever done, but Hoseok is so _cold_. Also tired. They all are, of course. Yoongi has been grumbling quietly all day and Namjoon is tired and withdrawn. Seokjin is drinking coffee and looks only half awake. The younger ones have held up a bit better. Jungkook is in high spirits, and Jimin and Taehyung are practicing the choreography over in the parking lot. 

Hoseok curls his arms around himself, flaps the arms of his jacket, looks around, catches Jimin's eye -- 

"Hobi hyung," Jimin calls. "Come here." 

Hoseok walks over, arms of his jacket going flap flap flap. 

"What's up, kids?" 

Black jeans and button up shirts. Jimin has taken his jacket off. His bare arms are covered with goose flesh. Sometime -- Hoseok doesn't know when -- it stopped looking like the kids were playing dress up when they wore these gaudy stage outfits. Sometime, it started to look natural. He wonders if he looks the same. He doesn’t feel that way. 

"Hyung, can you show us the point choreography again?" Jimin asks, that sweet pleading note in his voice. 

Hoseok frowns. Jimin knows the choreo forward and backwards, and Taehyung has it down cold too. 

"Eh," he says, but secretly he is pleased. "You just want to make me suffer. You don't need me to show you." 

"We do," Taehyung says. "Either Jimin has it wrong or I have it wrong, hyung, because we aren't in sync. You show us." 

Queue the song. Hoseok barely needs it. They've been hearing it on repeat for the past forty eight hours. Still. He moves through the point choreo: arms up, torso unmoving but legs in motion. Jimin, arms folded, watches with narrow eyes and a smile on his face. 

Little brat. This is his part, anyway. He's the one in the front, and Hoseok knows he’s practiced these moves almost to exhaustion.

The song ends. Hoseok shrugs back into his jacket. It's too cold for this. He wants to go home and take a shower and pass out in bed. 

"Ah," Taehyung says. 

"Did that help?" Hoseok asks. 

Taehyung shrugs. “I think it did," he says. “I’ll have to see when we rehearse.”

"It did," Jimin says, "Thank you hyung." He beams. 

Then that bright smile is gone and he's pulling on his own jacket and Hoseok can see a slice of his chest, pale and muscular. His black hair, curling under his ear. The line of his jaw. The long sleek line of his thighs in those tight black pants. 

Damn.

Hoseok keeps noticing these things. One minute Jimin will be the soft sweet kid that Hoseok so likes to tease, and then the next he'll do something that will make Hoseok think unfortunate thoughts. 

On and off, quick as flipping a switch. 

It's some kind of superpower, Hoseok thinks.

Maybe they've just been spending too much time together. Jimin and Hoseok. Roommates. Buddies. 

Overexposure. Overdose. 

Jimin and Taehyung disappear in the direction of craft services. They've all been drinking gallons of coffee and tea to stay on their feet. 

Hoseok feels slightly dazed. Yoongi, passing through on his way back from makeup, frowns at him. 

"What's with you?" He asks, squinting narrowly into the weak, pale sunlight. 

Hoseok shrugs. 

Laugh it off. Just laugh it off. That's what he does. That's his thing, right? 

Too slow. Yoongi shakes his head. "Hang in there, Hoseok," he says, and he rustles around in the pockets of his big, black coat. He keeps all kinds of things in there, squirreled away. A little rat's nest. He pulls out a handful of red ginseng chews and throws one to Hoseok, who barely catches it. 

"For your health," Yoongi says. "You've got to take care now that you're getting older." 

Sage wisdom from the elder. 

Hoseok wants to laugh. Yoongi just celebrated his birthday. He doesn't laugh though. They're all getting older. They're all growing up. 

That's the problem. 

"You're sure you're okay?" Yoongi asks, frowning. 

Damn. Thinking too much and missing all his marks. 

"Hyung," he says quickly, glancing around to make sure nobody else is within earshot. "Hyung, have you noticed anything different about Jimin lately?" 

Yoongi chews thoughtfully on his ginseng. "What do you mean? He's been working hard, and he's a little quieter lately, but I don't think he's depressed or anything like that. He's ..." 

"No," Hoseok says quickly. "No, not like that. I mean. Uh. With the way he looks?" 

Yoongi tilts his head and smirks. "Ah," he says, barely containing his mirth. 

"What?" Hoseok asks. "What?" 

Yoongi shakes his head, almost disgustingly delighted. "I was wondering when you'd notice." 

"What?" 

"Notice _him_ ," Yoongi says. "Our little Jiminnie has grown up." He sniffs and wipes away a feigned tear. 

Hoseok's cheeks must be bright red. "I mean," he says. "I wasn't. That's not. I'm not trying to ..." 

"It's okay," Yoongi says. "Boy got hot. It's not exactly a secret. Have you seen how the fans talk about him lately?" 

Hoseok closes his eyes, overwhelmed with misery. "I'm not ... I wasn't. He's just a kid," he says desperately. 

"Just a year younger than you are," Yoongi says slowly, lazily, obviously relishing this. "That didn't sound very convincing the first time. I'm not buying it. He's twenty years old, Hoseok." 

Twenty isn't a kid. Not by any measure. 

Hoseok feels like he could melt into the floor. "What should I do, hyung?" He can't keep the misery out of his voice. 

"Well, Hoseok-ah, when two boys like each other they usually hold hands, and kiss, and ..." Yoongi sounds entirely too self-satisfied. 

"He doesn't like me!" Hoseok protest. "And I don't like him. I just ..." 

"You just keep thinking about how hot he's gotten?" Raised eyebrow, cool glance. Yoongi does smug a little too well. 

Hoseok nods pathetically. 

"Well, he definitely likes you," Yoongi says. "Jimin's practically been writing you fucking odes for years." 

"That's not an answer," Hoseok says.

Yoongi just laughs. He hands Hoseok another piece of ginseng candy as a parting gift and walks off towards the sound stage. 

Hoseok stands there for a while in the middle of the parking lot stewing in his own misery until he hears Jimin and Taehyung coming back from craft services, talking loudly. He turns and sees them across the parking lot. Taehyung waves and Jimin holds up a cup of coffee. 

"We got you some," he says, smiling. "No sugar, right?" 

Hoseok nods and takes the cup Jimin offers. 

"Thanks, Jimin," he says. 

"No problem, hyung," Jimin says. "I know what you like." He smiles that brilliant smile of his. 

Entirely against his will, Hoseok's heart does some weird little two-step flutter. 

***** 

Not enough sleep. Never enough sleep. They're run ragged the weeks before a comeback and then they get back to the dorm and --- 

Jimin, face lit up by his phone, curled up in bed. His knees to his chest. Oblivious to the world.

"Jimin-ah," Hoseok whines. 

Jimin doesn't stir. 

"Jimin!" 

Jimin makes an indistinct noise in the back of his throat. 

"Park Jimin!" 

Finally, he looks up. "Yeah, hyung?" He sounds so tired.

Hoseok breathes out through his nose. Jimin is a good roommate, but -- 

"Your towel is on the ground," Hoseok says. Patient patient. He can do that. 

"Huh?" Jimin tilts his head. 

"Your towel." Hoseok exhales noisily. "Go hang it up." 

Jimin makes an irritated noise. "It's not bothering you there, is it?" he mutters. 

Obviously it's bothering Hoseok. If it weren't, he wouldn't have said anything.

Jimin is a good kid though. He's already getting up. 

Oh. Just boxer briefs and an undershirt tonight. 

Hoseok should be immune to this by now. Isn't that how it works? Exposure builds immunity? 

He keeps noticing new things instead: the lean muscle on the outside of Jimin's thigh, the way he walks with his shoulders back, that graceful and careful way he has of carrying himself. 

He bends down, picks up the towel, walks out to hang it up in the bathroom, and comes back. Arms folded, he stands at the foot of Hoseok's bed. One hip popped. Scowl fixed on his face. "Better, hyung?" 

"Thank you Jimin-ah," Hoseok sing-songs. "You're such a good dongsaeng." 

Jimin snorts, and crawls back into bed. 

He's not buying it. 

*****

Hoseok isn't the type to kiss and tell, which is why during the noisy bouts of truth or dare on radio shows he makes up excuses or lies. The truth of the matter is a lot more complicated than the simple smooth gloss he gives his stories: crush on a girl in high school, kissing in the hallway after class got out, doting boyfriend, terrible heartbreak when she dumps him. 

He's watched dramas. He knows the constituent parts of this story and he can assemble something plausible. 

The truth is the first person he ever kisses is Lee Minhyung. One year his senior. This is a long time ago, before he leaves Gwangju. He is fifteen and the realization that he isn't like _other boys_ hits him like a ton of bricks. Minhyung is in the dance club with him. A nice guy: handsome and athletic. Just the way Hoseok Iikes ‘em.

They staydlate in the practice room even though they aren't supposed to. It’s rented to the coach, and without him there is some kind of insurance concern or liability makes it risky. But Coach knows they need a place to practice and he trusts Minhyung so he leaves them the key and goes off to meet his buddies for a drink. 

Hoseok and Minhyung, dancing and dancing and dancing. Not even talking much. Minhyung's silence seems sophisticated and mature. Hoseok mimics it even though talking comes much more naturally to him. The room is always too hot, even with just the two of them. There is a tiny window that they crank open, but it does no good. No fresh air. The stale scent of sweat and the squeak of their sneakers on the floor. 

He is practicing something in front of the mirror. Minhyung comes up behind him to correct the position of his arm. Hoseok turns to look back at him over his shoulder, and Minhyung smiles gruffly and taps Hoseok on the chin. 

"You're getting handsome, Jung Hoseok," he says, half joking, half something else. 

Hoseok feels heat rise up in his cheeks. "Not as handsome as you, hyung," he says, and he means it to be a joke but it doesn’t come out like one. 

Voice hushed, standing close together, it comes out as what it is: a confession. 

Hoseok cringes back but Minhyung's hand is still on his shoulder and Minhyung holds him gently in place. "Hey," he says. "Hey, you really think hyung is handsome?" 

Hoseok nods and turns, and then they are facing each other and Minhyung leans forward and kisses him. 

Earthquake. Shaken right down to the core, Hoseok's heart careens wildly around his chest. He doesn’t know what to do. He likes it, but they haven’t practiced this choreo. What does he do with his hands? 

Minhyung pulls back, a little tentative, but something in Hoseok's face must set him at ease because he smiles and leans forward and kisses Hoseok again. 

It goes on like this for a while. Minhyung and Hoseok's practice time becomes kind of a joke with the dance club, but Hoseok doesn’t cared. He likes it, and Minhyung likes it. Making out in the practice room late at night. A hand job once in a while. That strange first appreciation of another body. 

Hoseok doesn't know why it stops. It just does. They don’t talk about it, anyway, because it isn't like they are dating or anything. It is just. A thing. 

The memories are lovely though, burnished by the passing of time. Innocent teenage fumbling. Sweet crush. All things considered, Hoseok couldn't have hoped for much more.

(He found Minhyung's Facebook not long ago and was surprised to see how ugly he was. The boy in his memories is handsome and dashing, but the man in the photographs has kind of a big nose and has let himself go a little to seed. Hoseok had been thinking about sending a message, but decides against it. Better to let the memories stay as they are, untarnished by the passing of time.) 

It happens once again like that, later, with another trainee. Just a brief thing. Someone who isn't with the company long -- good thing. He doesn't know what they would have done if they'd both debuted. 

It had been nice, really nice, and maybe even something more would have come of it but then the other trainee had gotten cut during a monthly evaluation. Unexpected, but not unreasonable. His eyes slide to Hoseok's as they stand there in that terrible line, waiting for the company staff to dispense their mercy. He looks sad and apologetic. Hoseok smiles, hoping to console him, hoping to let him know that everything wil be okay. 

They don't stay in touch. 

After that, nothing, except, once -- 

He shouldn't do it but they’ve just debuted and he feel some itch under his skin that he can't scratch. He knows the name of a place in Itaewon, has known it for years, has always wanted to visit but has never worked up the nerve. He’s just turned twenty, and he is an idol, but they are flop no-names and nobody will recognize his face. 

A club. Loud, and stinking of beer. Not that different from any other club Hoseok has ever been to, except there are no women here. He just wants to dance. The floor is packed, but he loves it. Pressing up against a stranger, taller and broader than Hoseok. The harsh smell of his body: sweat and aftershave and beer. The stubble on his chin and neck. He's a good dancer too. 

Hoseok means just to go and dance, but the stranger's hands find his hips and pull him close and Hoseok wants and wants and wants. Twenty years of want all pent up, so that when the man leans forward and whispers in Hoseok's ear he nods and agrees. 

They don’t fuck. Hoseok isn't that dumb, and he isn't drunk. He knows what he’s about. He lets the guy suck him off though, and then he tries to return the favor but the other guy is big, really big, and Hoseok is unpracticed at this and he has to manage it with mouth and mostly hands, feeling overwhelmed and too hot and more turned on than he's ever been in his life. 

They exchange numbers, but Hoseok throws away the scrap of paper the next morning. In the clear light, in the little bedroom with the bunkbeds, his actions seem foolish and risky in spite of how much he liked it. Because of that. 

Can't do that again, Hoseok-ah, he thinks to himself. Can't risk it. What if someone had recognized you? What if ...? 

He goes to a health clinic and gets tested even though they use protection. Everything is fine. Nobody recognizes him. It was just one night, and the story never gets out. 

Close call. Good memory. It is time for hard work, anyway, and not indulgence. 

So. Yeah. His first kiss story is a lie. The stories of all of his kisses are lies. He is a professional. 

"... Met her in school," Jimin is saying, smiling that sweet smile of his. "She was my senior and she was really nice and pretty." He pouts. "We had to break up when I came to Seoul, but I stay in touch with her. That's it. Not every exciting." 

Jungkook shakes his head. "That's a boring story, hyung," he mutters. 

Jimin scoffs. "What's the story of your first kiss, Jungkook? Like something out of a drama?" 

Jungkook blushes. He’s had his share of schoolboy romances Hoseok knows but he’s too polite to kiss and tell. 

Jimin sighs. "So," he says. "Yeah. That's it." 

Someone else chimes in -- Yoongi, or Seokjin. Whoever. 

Hoseok isn't paying attention, exactly. Something about Jimin’s story is off. That was a lie, Park Jimin, he thinks. That was a lie.

What is Jimin lying about? 

*****

“Ohhh, Jiminnie!” Taehyung’s voice is loud. “Everyone is talking about you.” 

Hoseok looks up. The kids are on the couch across the room. Jimin frowns. His cheeks go pink. He blushes more easily than anyone Hoseok has ever met, which is one of the things that makes him so fun to tease. 

“No they’re not,” Jimin says, turning back to his phone. 

The MV has just dropped, and the reception is hot - Seokjin originated that pun, of course. They’ve all been keeping an eye on the reactions. Today it seems like Jungkook and Taehyung are lurking on the message boards. 

“Yes they are, hyung,” Jungkook says, eyes narrow, scanning his phone

“‘Who is 3:33?’ ‘3:33-ssi is so sexy!’ ‘3:33 totally captured my heart!’ ‘Omo, the kid at 3:33 totally pulled me in with his gaze’” Jungkook’s voice goes high and shrill, parody of fangirl ardor. “Oooh, sounds like you seduced them all at a glance, 3:33-ssi.” 

Jimin snorts. He kicks one foot weakly in Jungkook’s direction, but it misses by a meter. “Sure,” he says. “That’s me. Seducing people with my mysterious gaze.” 

Hoseok remembers when they first debuted and they’d all been charged with posting on the twitter. Jimin’s first selcas had been so cringy it made your toes curl. He’d looked different then: a round-cheeked kid wearing too much eyeliner and pursing his lips at the camera. That had been cute. Now, he’s figured out this way of letting his gaze go soft and his lips fall slightly apart and … and it is different. 

Not that Hoseok has been paying attention to Park Jimin’s gaze. Definitely not. 

“Don’t lie,” Taehyung says. “Don’t lie. You’ve been practicing in the mirror, haven’t you?” 

Yoongi, seemingly asleep on the floor, says, “He has. Walked in on him one time.” 

Jimin throws a pillow at him, and he throws it back. 

Jungkook laughs so hard he snorts. 

“Well I can’t help it then,” Jimin says. “What do you want me to do? Is my gaze just that strong?” He glances over at the couch where Hoseok is sitting next to Namjoon. “What do you think, Hoseok hyung? Can you resist my enticing looks?”

He gets up and squeezes into the spot between Namjoon and Hoseok on the couch, and leans forward over Hoseok’s shoulder. He’s so close, close enough that Hoseok can feel his warm body. Jimin runs hot. He’s always opening the windows in the bedroom. Hoseok can see a zit on his jawline, one flaw on his otherwise smooth skin.That crooked front tooth. A little section of darker stubble he must have missed shaving earlier. His eyes, long and petal shaped and it’s true — Jimin has figured out this way of making his gaze sort of … melt. It’s almost an unfriendly look, but there’s something about it that draws your attention and holds it.

The fans have captured that look. Hoseok has seen the pictures. 

Hoseok does not want to look away. Jimin is too close, though, and they are all watching, and he starts to feel that tight choking sensation. Don’t do this don’t do this don’t do this don’t —

Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing. 

He brings the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh,” he says. “I’m overwhelmed by your sexiness.” He swoons back, head falling against the back of the couch. 

Jimin chuckles and smacks him on the arm and that dreamy fixed look in his eyes disappears: he’s all cheeks and eye-smiles now. 

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

Hoseok pats him on the shoulder. Jimin’s thigh is pressed into his. It’s too close. “Eh, don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve seen you drooling in your sleep, Jimin-ah. I think I’m safe from your seductive gaze.” 

Lies. Whatever. Hoseok has to preserve what little of his dignity of left. 

“I do not drool!” Jimin protests, but it’s too late. Jungkook and Taehyung are off and running, laughing and teasing. 

“You’re one to talk, Kim Taehyung! I heard you mumbling in your sleep just the other day.”

Noisy kids. It’s nice, though, Hoseok thinks. They’re so young, so full of energy. 

Not as young as they once were. Not kids, anymore. Yoongi was right, of course. 

Hoseok swallows. He thinks of the way that Jimin looks when he sleeps: lashes fanned across his pale cheek, jawline and neck. Smooth broad back in a white tee shirt. 

Not a kid at all, and Hoseok isn’t at all immune to him: not to his gaze, not to his smile, not even to his goofy laugh -- which hasn’t changed at all really. Hoseok just never found it so charming before, not by half. 

*****

They’re filming for their comeback show, and the pre-recording has been delayed until two AM. Everyone is tired and annoyed at the inconvenience. Hoseok has a headache and his stomach hurts. He skipped dinner earlier and now he’s too tired and anxious to eat. 

He twists in his seat. Damn waiting room. Yoongi and Taehyung are sleeping on the floor. They have the right idea. Hoseok could use some shuteye himself, honestly, but he’s not sure that he can fall asleep right now. 

He’s been having trouble sleeping lately. Too busy. Irregular hours. Sleeping in a new place. Not conducive to high quality rest. 

“Hyung,” Jimin says. “Come with me.” He holds out a hand even though he’s all the way on the other side of the room. 

“Too tired,” Hoseok mutters. 

“Hyuuung,” Jimin whines. “Come on. I want to take a video for the fans, to thank them for waiting. You haven’t taken any videos lately. They’ll love it.” 

Hoseok sighs. He doesn’t have the energy to protest. “Help me up,” he says, reaching for Jimin’s hand. “I’ll record your video with you. For the fans.” 

Jimin gets up and crosses the room. He claps Hoseok’s hands with his own: smaller and soft, with warm palms. He doesn’t let go even after Hoseok has found his feet. 

“Come on,” he says. “We can go into the room next door. It’s quieter there.” 

The room next door is not much more than a closet. Close and dark. A few mops sit in the corner. 

“What kind of set is this?” Hoseok mutters. “Jimin, let’s go back into the dressing room.” 

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s too noisy in there. Too many people. This is good.” 

He gets out his phone and turns on the camera. They peer up at the screen. It is dark, but what light there is paints Jimin in high contrast. Cheekbones and jaw. That charming bump on his nose. 

“Come here,” Jimin says, grabbing Hoseok’s arms. “You’re always avoiding me these days.” 

Not true. He isn’t. He’s just … 

Jimin’s arm slides around his waist, holding him close. “Okay,” he says. “We’ll just do something short. I’ll talk. You just sit there and look pretty.”

Hoseok is glad for the dark. He doesn’t flush easily, but he’d bet money that his cheeks are red. He’s not Seokjin. He doesn’t preen for the camera. He’s best at redirecting the attention away from himself. 

Jimin fusses with his phone. "Okay," he says. "I'm going to start in three ... two ... " 

Jimin beams up at the camera. "Hello everyone," he says. "We're waiting patiently just like you are. Hobi hyung and me. Is it very cold out? Make sure you stay warm and be careful not to catch a cold." 

He nudges Hoseok with his shoulder. 

Hoseok clears his throat. "Yes. Hmm. Everyone, please wait and we'll show you an awesome stage." He smiles as wide as he can and throws up a peace sign. 

"Okay," Jimin says. "Good." 

He moves his arm from Hoseok's waist. There's really not enough room in here. His elbow catches Hoseok in the side. He brings up the phone and replays the video. They both lean forward to watch. 

It's cute. It's fine. It looks good. 

"Eh," Jimin says, frowning. "I look dumb." 

"No you don't," Hoseok says, just a beat too quickly. 

Jimin shrugs. "Puffy cheeks," he says. 

"Awww, but your cheeks are so cute!" Hoseok pinches one and pulls. Squishy, soft baby face. Pouty lips. 

"Cut it out, hyung" Jimin says, brushing Hoseok's hand away. There's a note of real irritation in his voice. 

"Park Jimin," Hoseok says, "you know you look fine. Good, I mean. Yeah. You look good." 

Jimin glances at him, a strange sidelong look. "Really?" 

That faint wheedling note in his voice goes straight through Hoseok. 

"Of course," he says, and he can't entirely keep the exasperated note of disbelief out of his mind. "Of course, Jimin. You saw what all those fans said, right?" 

Jimin pouts. His lower lip is red and wet. "That's just ..." He waves a hand, dismissing all that anonymous praise. 

"What?" Hoseok huffs. "Don't the fans have eyes?" 

"Yeah," Jimin says. He steps closer. Half a step. Less. There's not a lot of room in here. "But. You know. That's different. What do you think, hyung?" 

He looks up at Hoseok and does that thing he does where he brushes his hair out of his face. 

Maybe Taehyung is right. Maybe he does practice in the mirror. It has the elegant artifice of a practiced move. 

"Hyung?"

Jimin's voice, curious and entreating. 

"Yeah," Hoseok says. He feels too hot all of a sudden. "I think you look good, Jimin." 

Jimin's little moue shifts into a smile, soft and pleased. "Really?" 

Hoseok nods. Swallows. His throat is dry. Of course he thinks Jimin looks good. He's spent way too much time thinking about that lately. Jimin is so close right now, and looking at him with that liquid look in his eyes, soft and inviting, and it would be so easy to step forward and kiss him, step him back against the far wall and kiss him until he's whining and needy, fingers in his thick, glossy hair, pressing closer, hotter, sweaty and ... 

"Hyung?" Jimin makes a frustrated little noise. "Hoseok. I ..." 

Hoseok swallows. "Uh. Jimin." Babbling. Stupid thick-tongued panic. "I'm gonna ..." 

"Hey," Jimin says, one hand on Hoseok's arm. "Hyung, I thought ..." He frowns, eyebrows knit, and takes another tentative half step forward like he's going to --

Hoseok blinks. Oh no. This is bad. Red alert. He feels a little hysterical. 

He reaches up and pinches Jimin's cheek. "Our little Jimin grew up and became so handsome," he says, and it doesn't come out like it should -- light-hearted teasing, friendly joke. It falls flat. Lead balloon. Jimin's eyes go cold. 

Jimin brushes his hand away less gently than he did the first time. "You're really ... A joke?" He exhales loudly through his nose. "You're fucking ridiculous." 

He shakes his head, and then for a moment it seems like he's going to say something more -- but he doesn't. He just looks Hoseok up and down with an irritated and almost pitying expression on his face, and then he opens the door and walks out. 

Hoseok is alone, in the hot, dank broom closet. 

They’d been so close, both on the verge of something, and then Hoseok had done what he always does and made it into a dumb joke, and now Hoseok is here alone. In the closet. 

Isn’t this a little too literal? Can the universe be a little more subtle with its metaphors in the future? He hangs his head. It serves him right.

*****

Jimin uploads the damn video anyway. He uses a filter to put mustache glasses on Hoseok. The fans think it's hilarious. Little punk.

***** 

"Can you shut the light off?" 

Tonight's opening volley. Hoseok cringes. It's been three days since the ... whatever that was in the closet of the SBS building, and the bedroom has turned into a proxy battleground. 

"Sure, Jimin-ah," Hoseok says, opening up diplomatic negotiations. "I'm really beat too. I'm about to head to bed." 

Jimin, eyes fixed on his phone, says nothing.

Sighing, Hoseok hauls himself out of bed. It's late. Well after midnight and they need to be up early for a fan meeting in Paju. He flicks off the light. Everything goes dark. The blackout curtains are drawn. The only illumination is the blue glow of Jimin's phone. Hoseok glances at Jimin for just a moment before Jimin shuts his phone and everything goes black . 

He stumbles his way back to his bed. The room is cluttered, and he trips and whacks his shin. Muffled curse. He falls on the bed. Damnit. 

Jimin says nothing. 

Hoseok struggles under his blankets. His shin stings.

"Sleep tight, Jimin-ah," he says through gritted teeth. 

"Goodnight," Jimin says. He shuffles. His bedding rustles. Quiets. Rustles again. Jimin is a heavy sleeper. He’s only tossing and turning because he can’t fall asleep. Welcome to the club, Hoseok thinks. 

Jimin is _right there_. It would be so easy for Hoseok to just say something. Just admit it. 

He can’t. 

They lay there side by side in their little beds, not sleeping, not talking, stifled by the palpable darkness. 

***** 

"What's going on with you?" Namjoon says, frowning. 

They're at the company building. It's a rare afternoon off, but they're all at work anyway. When did they get this lame? 

Hoseok is pretty sure he always was.

"Nothing," he says. "Does something seem wrong?" 

Namjoon smiles. That dumb dimple in his cheek pops out. He's got his leader ESP turned on today, it seems. “Nah,” he says. “I mean, not really. You just seem a little twitchy. You almost jumped out of your seat when Jimin came in earlier.” 

Had it been that obvious? Ugh. Subtlety has never been Hoseok’s strong suit. “I’m fine!” Too shrill. Tone it down, Hoseok. “I’m fine. You know. Just …” 

“I know,” Namjoon says, grinning. “Comebacks are always rough, huh?” He shakes his head. “Things are okay with you and Jimin, right? I know he can be a handful at times, and it’s weird getting used to the roommate thing. I wanted to strangle Taehyung the other night. I was trying to sleep and he wouldn’t turn off his damn computer.”

“Jimin is fine,” Hoseok says, too hastily. “Jimin is great. Nothing is weird at all.” 

Namjoon look at him narrowly. “You sure, man? Because you’re acting kind of weird around him.”

Hoseok bites his lip. The thing is, he's not the confessional type. He keeps his cards close to his chest. If he were going to confess though, Namjoon would be the person he went to. 

"Uh," Hoseok says. "No. It's good. It's just. You know. Weird. Like you said. Getting used to the roommate thing. And the comeback. Weird, is all." 

Namjoon narrows his eyes further. "Okay," he says slowly. "If you're sure. But like, just because you guys don't work out as roommates it doesn't mean you love him any less or whatever. I know Jimin can be kind of needy, but he's a grown up. He'd understand." 

Hoseok nods. "I know. That's not it, Namjoon, but thanks. I ... I just need some time, okay?" 

Namjoon nods, smiling. He gets it. He was so angry when Hoseok first met him, so full of all this pent up anger and range. The serenity he's cultivated over the last year or so is something new, but it suits him. "Just let me know if you need anything," he says. 

Hoseok smiles up at him. "Thanks, Joon. I will.” 

***** 

There's this: Hoseok sits on his bed reading while Jimin does something on his computer. He is hunched forward over the keyboard. The desk light is angled towards him, and it paints the delicate shell of his ear bright pink and nearly translucent. Hoseok wants to trace the hilly topography of the nape of his neck. He wants to push his fingers up through Jimin's thick dark hair. He wants ... 

"Hyung." 

Jimin looks over his shoulder. He's wearing his thick glasses, and he looks tired. 

"Mmm?" Hoseok smiles. 

Tensions between them have thawed. Diplomatic relations are restored. That weirdness in the closet will be left there, apparently. 

"Listen to this," Jimin says. He gets up from the desk with his phone and his headphones in one hand. Clumsy stumble across the room, and then he's flopping down on Hoseok's too narrow bed, which is really too small for the both of them. 

Hoseok takes the headphones from Jimin and listens. It's a pop song -- English lyrics, bright, twinkling beat. The kind of thing Jimin likes. Hoseok likes it too. 

The song ends. "Mmm," he says. "Nice." 

"You like it?" Jimin asks. He is curled up, feet tucked and elbows in, leaning against Hoseok's side. 

Too close. Too close, because like this Hoseok can smell the real and boyish scent of him: sweat and soap. He can feel Jimin's knobby shoulder press into his. 

"Yeah," Hoseok says, tense. "I like it." 

"I'd like to do something like that someday," Jimin says, idly. "Maybe Namjoonie hyung will write me a song." He looks up at Hoseok, smiling. "Or you could, hyung." 

"Or you could yourself," Hoseok says, scooting just a little bit further away. He just needs a centimeter of space to breath. 

Jimin shakes his head. "Nah," he says. "I'll leave that to the professionals. Last time I showed Yoongi hyung something he said it sounded like one of the songs you sing in kindergarten about looking both ways when you cross the street." 

Hoseok snorts. "And what's wrong with that?" 

"Hmm," Jimin says, leaning forward to pluck the one remaining earbud from Hoseok's ear. "Nothing wrong with it, I guess. But you'd do better though." He smiles. 

Hoseok can feels his heart thrumming in his wrists, in his neck. He can see the little notch between Jimin's collarbones, and the soft underside of his forearm. 

"Eh," Hoseok says, ducking his head. "Don't sell yourself short. I'm not .." 

Jimin narrows his eyes. "You are, though, hyung," he says, quickly. 

Hoseok doesn't know what to say. He's not. He's not and he's just -- 

Jimin watches him for a moment, sharp as glass, waiting for some kind of response, but Hoseok doesn't have one. He smiles and shrugs, and Jimin shakes his head in annoyance and rolls off the bed. 

He puts his earbuds back in and hunches over his computer.

Hoseok could write about: 

The smooth rounded corner of Jimin's neck and shoulder. The way his hair falls over the tops of his ears. The tapering vee of his shoulders torso waist. 

Epic poetry.

Hoseok frowns. No audience for that kind of thing. Jimin is wrong. He'll leave the lyrics to Namjoon and Yoongi. They can put themselves out there. Hoseok still needs his mask. 

***** 

"Oh damn," Yoongi says. "Maknae's getting all the action." 

Jungkook stares at his feet. His cheeks are red. "No," he says. "I'm not ..." 

He has a little piece of paper in his hands, pink and folded many times.  
"Come on," Jimin says, grabbing for it. "Let hyung read it." 

Jungkook holds it up out of his reach. He's tall enough to do that now. Jimin jumps up. His loose shirt flies up, baring his smooth, muscled stomach, his narrow waist. 

Hoseok looks away. 

"Ugh," Jimin says. "When did you get so tall?" 

He wraps his arms around Jungkook's and Jungkook squawks. While he's distracted, Seokjin snatches the note from Jungkook’s outstretched hand. 

He unfolds it and peers down with a considering air. He’s a regular connoisseur of love notes. "Hmmm," Seokjin says. "Purple ink - very nice. And she gives you her phone number and KKT handle." He holds the paper up to his nose and sniffs. "Is that a hint of perfume?" 

Jungkook's cheeks are scarlet. 

"Cut it out, hyung," he mumbles. "Give it back to me." 

"Ah, to be young," Seokjin says, sighing. "Here you go, kiddo." He hands the note back to Jungkook and ruffles his hair. 

Jungkook folds it back up carefully and quickly and shoves it in his pocket. 

Jimin, still clinging to Jungkook's waist, pouts. "You're taller than me and you get more confessions," he says. "That's not fair." 

"Hey, Park Jimin," Hoseok says. "Weren't you voted number one most eligible bachelor at ISAC? Is all that love not enough for you?" 

Jimin rolls his eyes, letting go of Jungkook and falling back onto the couch. "That doesn't count," he says. "That's like ..." He waves a hand. "I'm like the safe option." 

Namjoon, on the other end of the couch, snorts. 

"What do you want to be?" Taehyung asks, from the other side of the room. "The unsafe option? The universally scorned option?" 

Jimin crosses his arms. "No," he says. "No. I mean, it's very nice. I just ..." He glances over at Hoseok. Their eyes meet, lock -- and then Hoseok looks away. 

"I just want something _real_ ," Jimin says, finally. 

Yoongi snorts. "You're in the wrong line of work for that, Jimin." He claps him on the shoulder, and Jimin’s shoulders sags. 

Yoongi's right though, Hoseok thinks. He's smarter and he's right and ... 

Jimin catches his eye again and smiles, small and private. "I don't know," he says. "Sometimes the world puts you in just the right place find what you need.” 

*****

Photoshoots are always chaotic. This is for a magazine, and they are besieged by a small army of stylists. Hoseok is having his hair done. They're styling it up away from his face. He prefers bangs, honestly; they help make his face look a little less long and horse-like. 

They all read the comments online. He knows what people say. 

Anyway. It's not like he has a choice right now. They are putty in the hands of these artists. 

Over the roar of the blow dryer, Hoseok can't hear anything. The stylist brushes and brushes and brushes, trying to bring volume to impart some volume to his rather fine, flat hair. Seokjin and Taehyung are having their makeup done. Yoongi and Namjoon are being photographed, standing in front of a grey wall. Jungkook is waiting his turn.

Hoseok hates this tedium, but once they endure this they have the afternoon off. He's tired, but he can get through it. He can get through it. He can ... 

The curtain to the little dressing room opens, and Jimin steps out. He is wearing fishnet stockings under calf-length pants; pale feet and slim ankles. 

He catches Hoseok watching him in the mirror and looks up and smiles. Then, practiced and careful, Jimin stands on his tip toes and spins around, arms curved over his head. 

Hoseok beams and claps. "Very graceful," he says. 

Giggling, covering his face with his hands, Jimin drops into the chair next to Hoseok. 

Hoseok is wearing stockings too; they're uncomfortable and strange. Although they wear the same shoe size Hoseok's feet look bony and huge compared to Jimin's. 

"Makes me think of high school," Jimin says, wiggling his toes. Another stylist comes up behind him and sets to work with a brush and hair spray. 

"You had to wear things like this?" Hoseok knows Jimin studied modern dance; Jimin doesn't bring it up much, but it's one of those little things that's just out there, a fact that the public and the media latch onto in order to elaborate more compelling histories and personalities for them.

Jimin shakes his head. "Not quite like _this_ ," he says. "We had to wear. Um. For recitals? Leotards and stuff." He hangs his head, and the stylist tuts until he straightens up. "For this one recital we had to wear these tiny little shorts and button up shirts? But the shirts were open. So embarrassing." He squirms a little.

"Ohhhh," Hoseok says. "How sexy!" 

Jimin pouts. "Really not," he says.

"Maybe we can do that concept for our next MV," Hoseok says, grinning, poking Jimin in the arm. "Dancer concept. The fans would love it." 

They would, is the thing. 

Jimin grins, lopsided. White teeth and red lips. "You'd love it, you mean," he says, meeting Hoseok's gaze, daring. 

Jimin in flesh colored tights that cling to his muscular lean thighs and his ass. Waistband just below the divots in his lower back. Bare-chested and intent as he moves through a routine. 

Bad. Not good. Hoseok wiggles. The stylist tugs on his hair in retribution. "You'd look so cute in a tutu though," he says, finally. 

Jimin rolls his eyes. "Sure," he says. He slouches forward in his chair and then, impetuous, taps Hoseok’s foot with one stockinged toe. 

It’s strangely shocking. Hoseok jolts. 

“Hyung,” Jimin says, quietly. “I —“ 

Then he shakes his head like he comes to, like he’s just remembered where they are. 

“You’re done,” the stylist says, tapping Hoseok on the shoulder. “Head over to makeup.” 

He doesn’t need to be told a second time. 

*****

Variety show. The stage lights are hot. Hoseok is never more comfortable than he is on stage. There’s nowhere to hide, but there’s nothing to see here. He grins and flashes a quick peace sign towards a camera. 

“And you, Hoseok-ssi? Who do you think shines the most brightly this era?” the host asks in her polite, piping voice. 

“I’m not called Bangtan’s battery for no reason,” Hoseok says, smiling, leaning back on his heels, “But our Jimin is getting so much love and attention this comeback.” 

She laughs. 

Jimin, standing on the other side of Yoongi, looks entirely too pleased and isn’t trying too hard to hide it. His cheeks and his chest are flush pink. 

“Oh yes,” the male host says. “I’ve heard Jimin-ssi has become a hot topic on the community sites. Why do you think people are noticing his charms now, Hoseok-ssi?” 

“Jimin has always been charming,” Hoseok says, and he thinks of the small, baby-faced kid he’d met at Seoul Station all those years ago (not that many years, actually. Not even five years. It just feels so much longer than that. They’ve fit in so much living.). He thinks of how annoyed they’d all been at first at the new kid — not even that talented and the debut was pushed back again! He thinks of late night practices with Jimin — Jimin asking for Hoseok’s help with moves he already knew. He thinks of how hard and how carefully Jimin had worked to win him over, win all of them over really, and how they had all been charmed in the end. “He’s always been charming, but he’s grown up so much lately. He finally turned into a man.” 

Everyone giggles. Jimin’s cheeks are red and his eyes are turned down and oh shit. Hoseok hadn’t meant it like that. Just friendly teasing. An act for the public. 

It’s too late to clarify though. The hosts have moved on, and Seokjin is in the middle of some bombastic confession or another, and Jimin is still looking angry and confused and Hoseok knows he’s messed things up. He’s messed things up and he doesn’t even know how. 

*****

Next segment. They barely have a moment to rest. This time, they're wrestling. This kind of thing is a little out of date, but maybe there's been some kind of retro variety revival. Hoseok doesn't know. 

It's maknae line versus hyung line, with Yoongi sitting out, and Hoseok is up. 

"You ready, champ?" Seokjin says, clapping him on the shoulders. 

Hoseok nods, even though he's not, even though he's still thinking about what he said earlier, about how angry and hurt Jimin had looked. About how ... 

"Hoseok-ssi?" the host asks. 

Hoseok smiles. "Sorry," he says. "Coach had some last minute advice." 

Namjoon snorts and pats him on the back. "Go get 'em, tiger," he says. 

The hosts twitter in polite appreciation of his feeble attempts at humor. 

He's normally sharper than this. He's normally ...

He steps up to the mat. 

Park Jimin stands opposite, hands on his hips. He grins, sharp. Fierce. 

Hoseok has a bad feeling about this. 

"Uh," he says. 

"One," the host intones. 

Maybe Seokjin should take this round. Maybe Namjoon can ... 

"Two." 

Across the mat, Jimin grins, eager and unkind.

"Three!" 

A whistle blares. Hoseok steps forward. 

He's never been good at this kind of thing. They had to practice wrestling in school and he'd always done badly. Too skinny. He's fast, but he doesn't have the mass. 

He's bigger than Jimin by a few centimeters and at least five kilos. That should count for something. He crouches down, leans forward, balances on the balls of his feet. He's fast, at least. If Jimin makes a move he can ... 

No. Jimin is smaller but he's more well knit. Like a tiny angry boulder, he catches Hoseok around the waist and brings him down. In a blur, they topple. Hoseok's teeth rattles. He looses his breath but manages to get an ankle around Jimin's leg. He twists, and pushes. Jimin is on top of him, but Hoseok heaves and nearly throws him off. Jimin's thigh is between his, and Jimin's hands are around his wrist. He's so much stronger than he looks. This close, Hoseok can smell him: sweat and aftershave. Jimin's face is inches from his, and his eyes are dark and his mouth is open and his lips are red and Hoseok wants ... oh. Oh. 

Hoseok gives up. Goes limp. There's only so long a person can fight. There's only so much a person can resist. 

Jimin glares down at him, breathing hard. His cheeks are red. His eyes are bright. 

"I won," he hisses. 

"Yeah," Hoseok says. His head is spinning. He tries to find his breath. 

Jimin wins. Hoseok concedes. 

*****

Late night in the dorm. Hoseok is showered and clean and preparing himself for that moment of maximum pleasure: he folds back the blanket on his bed and slips under the covers. 

Ah! Smooth clean blankets are a delight. He kicks his feet, relishing it. Satiny swish of skin against fabric. He throws himself back against his pillows. 

There’s nothing in the world he wants more right now than to sleep and sleep and sleep. Twenty four hours wouldn’t be enough. He wishes he had a stronger constitution, but he never has. He’s prone to sickness and gets tired easily. He keeps up, but he relishes the rare hours like this. He wants to get _so much_ sleep tonight. 

He lets every muscle go loose and easy and closes his eyes. His body is becoming saturated with that soft easy pre-sleep daze. The desire to just let go wars with the desire to take advantage of this precious free time. He could read or listen to music or watch a drama or do any of those small, luxurious things he never normally has times to do. Just the ability to choose seems almost overwhelming.

But before he can decide the bedroom door opens. Jimin comes in, damp and rosy from the shower. He is wearing sweatpants and a too big tee shirt and a towel around his neck, and he looks sleepy and preoccupied. The weird space between them has not totally been cleared. Things are fine -- kind of. They aren't fighting but Jimin seems withdrawn and sullen, sulky. Waiting for Hoseok to make the next move. 

Jimin sits down at the foot of his bed. Sad slump of his shoulders. He towel dries his hair and drops the towel on the floor.

It irritates Hoseok so much. “Jimin,” he says. “Come on. Pick that up.” 

Jimin gives him a truly disdainful look, but he bends over and picks up the towel. Without saying a word he leaves the room. 

Well, maybe he was a bit harsh, but how can you just leave a wet towel on the floor? They don’t dry properly and they start to smell. It’s just common sense that they need to be hung up in the bathroom when you’re done. That’s one of the house rules, after all. 

Jimin comes back and sits down at his desk without saying a word. His shoulders are hunched, and he is looking at something — a book maybe. Hoseok can’t see. 

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok says. “What are you doing?” 

Jimin makes an irritated noise and ignores him. 

Okay. he’s angry. Hoseok gets it. Still. He’s not the kind of person who can just let things go. “Jimin-ah,” he says. “Don’t be a sore winner. Don’t be angry with me.” 

It comes out sounding so much more pitiful than he means it to. 

Jimin sighs and spins around in the desk chair. He looks tired, so tired. “I’m not angry at you, hyung,” he says. 

Hoseok grins. “Good,” he says. “You better not be. Hanging up the towels is one of the house rules, remember?” 

Jimin’s eyes narrow. He looks at Hoseok for a moment almost like he’s confused, brow knit, frowning. 

Hoseok stares back, unsure. Unsure. 

“How much longer are we going to pretend to do this?” Jimin asks then. 

Hoseok shakes his head. “What? Pretend to do what?” 

Jimin stands up then. “You’re so ...” He closes his eyes. “I thought I was just crazy,” he says. “I thought I was crazy to think that you might be interested in me after so long but then I kept catching you _looking at me_. Not the way you look at Jungkook or Taehyung. And then that day at SBS, I thought we were finally going to stop playing this stupid game, but you ran away then too.” He puts his hands on his hips. ”If I’m wrong about all of this just tell me. It’s really embarrassing even to say this to you but I can’t play this game anymore.” 

Hoseok’s heart is racing. His hands feel cold and his cheeks feel hot. Jimin is still standing with his hands on his hips waiting for an answer. 

“Jimin-ah,” he says slowly. “I can’t ...” 

“Why _not_?” Jimin’s voice is tense and harsh. “I’m not a child, hyung. I’m not an idiot. What’s wrong with me that you _can’t_?” 

“It’s not right,” Hoseok says weakly. 

Jimin makes that frustrated noise again. “I don’t fucking care what’s right. I’ve been waiting for so long for you to say something, _do_ something. Anything. If you can’t get over whatever weird hang up is holding you back, just tell me. I’ll ask Jungkook if we can trade rooms. I’ll tell him it’s my fault. I’ll just … tell me, hyung, and I’ll go.” 

“No,” Hoseok says quickly. “No, Jimin, don’t do that. I don’t want ...” 

“What do you want?” There is a pleading and plaintive note in his voice. 

“You’re just a kid,” Hoseok says, pathetically. 

Jimin snorts. “I’m a _year younger than you_ ,” he says.

Hoseok hangs his head. “I just ...” He swallows. “I’m scared. I don’t want to mess things up. I don’t want to risk making things ...” 

“Wasn’t it a risk when you came here from Gwangju?” Jimin sits back down on his bed. “Wasn’t that a risk? Don’t you think I’d be worth it? Because I’d risk it for you, hyung.” 

Hoseok feels sick to his stomach. He shakes his head. There are so many things that could go wrong — it could get leaked to the press or the fans could find out or they could break up and hate each other or maybe Jimin really is too young and doesn’t know his own heart. Hoseok is afraid of what he’d find inside of his own. 

Jimin sighs and shakes his head. “Okay,” he says. “I understand. I’ll talk to Jungkook tomorrow and say I want to change rooms. I’ll say you nag too much. Don’t worry. He’s more obedient than me anyway. He won’t give you any problems. He probably always hangs up _his_ towels.” 

Hoseok knows he needs to say anything. He knows it would be a simple admission: somewhere along the line you grew up, Jimin, and somewhere along the line I fell for you. 

He's not even sure how it's happened. He’d looked up at Jimin and thought 'oh shit', and that moment had tipped the scale. Years of accumulated affection had spilled over and Hoseok was lost in Jimin’s beauty and his kind heart and all of him.

There are so many things: Jimin's lean elegant body. Hips and thighs. The fascinating way he looks exactly the same as the kid Hoseok met all those years go and yet totally different. His eyes and smile and his crooked front tooth. The way he can shift so suddenly from stern and austere beauty to that smile that lights up his entire face. His fond annoyance at Hoseok's teasing. The quiet but determined way he keeps his head down and works hard and demands to be taken seriously. His easy laughter. His gentle and consistent affection. 

It rushes over him. Oh god. He's so far gone. Jimin is two meters away, curled up and alone in his own bed, so close that Hoseok could almost touch him if he stretched out his arm, and yet he's never been further. Because Hoseok can't just open his mouth and admit what he wants. 

Because he's scared. 

"I'm a coward," he says, and his voice sounds strange and weird in the dark room. It's only because of the dark that he can say anything at all. He can pretend he's just talking to himself, can pretend he's not confession, can pretend that he's not tearing open this dumb secret part of himself. "I'm a coward, Jimin-ah." 

Jimin doesn't say anything, but Hoseok can hear him move. Both of them lying there in their little beds staring up at the same dark ceiling. Jimin isn't going to make this easy. Jimin isn't going to cut him any breaks. 

"I can't stop thinking about you," Hoseok says. His eyes are closed. He doesn't dare open them. "I can't stop thinking about you, and it scares the shit out of me. We're _idols_. What if we got caught? What if people found out? We'd never live it down. What if the other guys aren't okay with it? What if we ... what if it didn't work out and we ended up hating each other?" 

All of it out there, out in the open. He feels like he's been split apart. It's all out there and he is shaking and afraid and Jimin isn't saying anything. 

"I'm sorry," Hoseok says. "I shouldn't have ... I should have kept control of myself better. I shouldn't have let this get out of hand. I shouldn't have ..." 

"Hyung," Jimin says. "Shut up." 

There is a quiet rustling of sheets and then a weight on Hoseok's bed, and Jimin is right there beside him. "Move over," he whispers. 

It's so dark and Hoseok can't really see him at all, but haltingly and in starts they fit themselves together. Hoseok's head on Jimin's shoulder, and Jimin's arms around his waist. 

"Hyung," Jimin says. "It's going to be okay." 

"Jimin," Hoseok says, and he doesn't even know what he's saying. 

"It's going to be okay," Jimin says. He is quiet for a little while. "When I first joined the company, I was so sure I was going to be cut. I was so sure I wasn't good enough. You helped me so much back then, hyung. You spent so much time with me, remember? You were so kind. I don't think I could have done it without you." 

Hoseok shakes his head. "That's not true," he says. "You just needed a little help. You were always good enough to --" 

"And you helped me," Jimin said. "Even though I was just some dumb kid. Even though you had no reason to. You were strong for me then, hyung. Trust me, and let me be strong for you now." 

Hoseok wants to protest. He wants to argue, because everything that Jimin achieved is the result of his own hard work. Hoseok barely did anything: not enough to merit this kind of gratitude. He wants to argue and hide behind some joking words, turn Jimin's affection aside as a way to disguise his own tender and weak heart. 

But how much longer can he keep pretending? Where else can he hide? 

Once again, he gives up. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done, and easier than breathing. 

"Okay," he says. "Okay, Jimin. I trust you.” 

Jimin make a noise like something between a laugh and sob. His arms tighten around Hoseok’s waist. "You're so dumb, hyung. I've been waiting for you for so long. We could have ..." 

"What?" Hoseok says, alarmed. Is Jimin upset? Has he done something wrong? "What?" 

"This," Jimin says, and he leans forward and kisses Hoseok but in the dark misses and just catches the corner of his mouth. 

"Wait, wait," Hoseok says. "Did you just slobber on me?" 

Jimin is laughing and pressing soft-lipped kisses all over his face then, holding him so close. His fingers slip under the hem of Hoseok's tee shirt, cool on Hoseok's warm back. 

"Gross," Hoseok says. "Germs." 

Jimin leans across Hoseok and reaches for the lamp on the bedside table. Hoseok blinks at the sudden light, and Jimin scoots back over. His cheeks are rosy and he looks so happy, happier than Hoseok can ever remember seeing him. The idea that Hoseok is the one that made him that happy is overwhelming. Deafening. Too much. 

"C'mere," he says. "Let me show you how it's done, Jimin." 

Jimin rolls his eyes and leans forward and Hoseok's hand finds the back of his neck and their eyes meet and ... 

One frozen moment on the precipice of some monumental change. Hoseok blinks and blinks again, wondering if he'll open his eyes and realize that this is some kind of dream. 

It's not. Jimin is right there, warm and real and glad. The fear is still there too, and that desire, kindling itself swiftly in Hoseok's belly. 

He doesn't know what what will happen. He doesn't know if this is a mistake. 

It doesn't matter. 

Jimin smiles and leans forward and kisses Hoseok again.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on twitter! I'm @roebling_writes :)


End file.
